


Spoiled Little Rich Boy

by syntheticvision



Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: Blackmail, Bondage, Dark Ransom Drysdale, F/M, Harassment, Non-Consensual Touching, Power Dynamics, Ransom Drysdale Being an Asshole, Rape/Non-con Elements, Revenge, Sexual Harassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:07:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27198943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syntheticvision/pseuds/syntheticvision
Summary: A wedding coordinator at a prestigious country club runs afoul of one Ransom Drysdale, who doesn't take kindly to her enforcement of policies.
Relationships: Ransom Drysdale/Reader
Comments: 17
Kudos: 67





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

>   
> 
> 
> PLEASE pay attention to the tags. I've tagged appropriately and as someone who wandered into a fic that was not tagged correctly, I take this seriously and I don't want people to be triggered. 

“Are we clear, Mr. Drysdale?”

Ransom allowed a small tweak of his lips, his mind already formulating a plan for revenge.

“Crystal,” Ransom replied in kind, lifting himself up from the chair. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyers, no doubt.”

The man across from him pushed his glasses up his nose with one long finger, unswayed by the thinly veiled threat.

“We take matters of harassment very seriously here. I’m sure your lawyers would understand our policies.”

“Whatever you say, Scott. That little waitress or cashier, whatever she is, she came on to me.” Ransom put up his hand in defeat, chuckling to himself. “I’m not going to say anything further.”

Once the coast was clear, Ransom’s footsteps down the hall of the country club now a distant memory, you found the courage to knock on the door to your boss’ office.

After getting the confirmation to enter, you pushed open the door to find Scott with his head bowed, the sigh from his lips the only sound in the massive space.

“Have a seat,” he greeted, waving toward the two chairs across from his desk.

Lowering yourself into the chair, he tried to smile at you but you knew by the way his lips immediately pursed into a frown that you were going to get news that you did not want to hear.

“I’m sure you saw Mr. Drysdale on your way in.”

“I actually didn’t. I heard him leave,” you replied, clearing your throat. “I felt it was best to keep the distance between us.”

“That’s smart,” Scott agreed. “I think we’re in for a legal fight. I just got off the phone with Mrs. Drysdale.”

You played with your hands that were in your lap, unsure of what he was going to tell you next. It was hardly a surprise that Mrs. Drysdale would get involved. You’d seen her around the county club more than a few times when Ransom got a little too overboard, coming in to clean up his ‘indiscretions’ as she called it. More than once you’d seen money exchanged from her hand to a witness of Ransom’s cruelty. Sometimes to a bruised up dishwasher sporting a black eye or an intern that couldn’t keep her mouth shut when she disappeared for a longer lunch break when he was around.

Still, you hadn’t thought that you would have ever been on the receiving end. You’d been working as an events coordinator for almost a month, beating out several candidates for the job. You thrived off of the stress, the running around when weddings overlapped, which was often, as it was now fall and foliage had transitioned into a wider color palate for brides who were looking for this type of aesthetic.

You’d been dealing with another meltdown, a consequence of a selfish bridesmaid who had opted to bring her own dress instead of the one she had been provided with as the bride crumbled in your arms, when you had been alerted to a stranger who had made himself comfortable at the bar.

Bemoaning the way your heels sunk into the soft earth, you had realized two things: that the stranger in question was Ransom Drysdale and that he was well on his way to having yet another bridesmaid on her back with the way he was flirting with the girl sitting next to him. He’d been bold before but never like this.

“Excuse me,” you’d interrupted him, your expression stern as his eyes snapped to yours while he finished his drink.

“Yes?”

One thing that you realized you would never be used to was the way that rich people were so quick to wave you away. Ransom was no exception, the irritation on his face blatant.

“Mr. Drysdale, this is a private wedding,” you’d reminded him, watching him wink at the bridesmaid.

“I’m a member.”

You’d gripped your clipboard at his reply, trying to keep your cool as the bridesmaid had slipped off the barstool and all but tiptoed away. There had been another meltdown that had come your way with the absentee bridesmaid who had missed out on pictures prior to the ceremony.

“I understand that. But these guests are paying for privacy and this bar is off limits.”

Ransom had raised an eyebrow at you, looking back at the bartender who had sheepishly cleaned a glass, deliberately not looking at you.

“I wasn’t aware there were places deemed off limits for me.”

You’d swallowed harder than you intended to, almost choking on the words that had threatened to spill from your mouth. He looked you up and down, an earthy stare that made you uncomfortable.

“There are many places off limits. Wedding spaces, such as this one, are prohibited when in use.”

Ransom had left out a small, sarcastic chuckle with a disbelieving nod of his head before he had stood up, towering over you as a means of intimidation. You had taken a step back to keep your distance but immediately you had known that he had taken it as a sign of submission.

“You must be new here. I go wherever I want. But fine, have it your way.” He surveyed the reception tables, with the sage tablecloths and eggplant and ivory accents. “Paying thousands of dollars for this type of treatment is a little excessive. Even for me.”

“Type of treatment?” You’d found yourself getting more upset by the minute but incensed by what he was implying. “I reminded you -”

“No,” he interrupted you. “You told me to leave. I’m sure Scott would love to hear that his little waitress… whatever you are, just told me to leave the premises. No one has ever spoken to me like that.”

“I didn’t say that,” you shot back through gritted teeth.

He’d reached for you before you had even realized what had happened, stumbling as your front hit his chest.

“Doesn’t matter what you say. You really are new here.” Ransom leaned down to whisper in your ear as you fought against him, the clipboard tapping against his bicep. “I do what I want, when I want.”

“Don’t touch me,” you spat, reeling back from his grasp. “Just go.”

He laughed in your face, still holding you close as you realized you couldn’t get out of his grip.

“How much are they paying you to be a little guard dog? I hope it’s more than minimum wage. Maybe you could afford a better tailored skirt.”

With one final push, you were released, your nostrils flaring in anger as the clipboard slipped from your hands and onto the ground.

“Relax,” Ransom replied, moving past you. “You need to get laid or something? So uptight.”

As you sat in Scott’s office, hearing that there was a legal fight brewing, all you could do was look at him in disbelief.

“He wouldn’t let me go,” you insisted. “He’s always been like that. Giving weird looks, blocking the doors so we can’t get past.”

“For now, he’s suspended from coming back until the investigation is over,” Scott tried to assure you.

Your eyes widened at his comment.

“Investigation? Scott, he’s - he put his hands on me! He wouldn’t let me go and then hinted that I needed to get laid. And his father is on the board of directors.”

“I know. We’ll get it handled, don’t worry.”

You had very little faith that it was going to actually be handled. You loved your job, you’d been so happy with it that you couldn’t imagine leaving it. But you knew in a heartbeat that if the outcome was in his favor, you would have no choice. You weren’t rich and you certainly could not afford to hire a lawyer to represent you. He came from a powerful family.

To you, it was all but certain that he would be back inside the club before you knew it.

A consummate professional, you’d finished work as the last guest was leaving, overseeing the cleaning before you wrapped up the last of your work. Your feet hurt from standing and you’d been alone with your thoughts after the bride and groom had left for their honeymoon, absentmindedly cleaning up while wondering what the outcome of the investigation would be. Your wrist still hurt from where he had grabbed you and you rubbed it quickly while you searched for your keys when you got to your car.

The snap of a twig had caught your attention, making you turn around in a circle for any sense of danger. You stood completely still for a moment, trying to listen for anything out of the ordinary but there was nothing, save for a lone owl in the distance.

As your fingers found the keys, a strong arm pinned your arms to your chest, a cloth covering your nose and mouth with an odd smell that made you dizzy. You blacked out, hearing only the sound of your purse dropping from your hand.

Your head pounded while your eyes slowly opened, trying to make sense of the location you had found yourself in. It was dark, dimly lit as the only light was from the slit in the bathroom door. Your mouth was dry, your lips slightly parted as you tried to call for help, the only sound coming out as a whisper. When you realized your hands were bound, your voice raised an octave higher. Wherever you were, it was in a motel, the bed creaking with your movements. Turning your head to the side, you saw your blouse and skirt had been carefully folded on a chair, your heels placed next to the table.

The light in the bathroom flicked off, leaving you in darkness while your eyes adjusted.

“I picked a pretty shit motel,” a voice announced at the foot of the bed. “If you scream, I’ll hurt you and no one would hear you anyway.”

“Let me go. Please,” you begged, still trying to make out the figure in front of you.

The mattress dipped as you felt your attacker part your thighs roughly, the rough material of their pants pressing on your skin.

“I have to hand it to you. I’ve never been kicked out of a club before. Not one where I’m paying several thousand a year in membership fees.”

Then it clicked.

You went to scream and a piece of duct tape covered your mouth, Ransom’s warm breath against your cheeks. His usually slicked back hair was out of place, a smirk on his lips.

“You have a big mouth on you, that’s for sure.”

Your muffled cries against the tape did not give him pause as you fought against the bonds.

“It’s funny. I’ve been a member for years and an employee on the job for a goddamn month gets me suspended? My father is on the Board of Directors. I’ll be back within a week, maybe less. My mother will find you, give you some hush money, as she likes to call it and we’ll all go back to normal. Sound good?”

Through your tears, you nodded frantically. You didn’t care about the money. All you wanted to do was leave. Your heart pounded in your chest while a smile appeared on his face.

“Good,” Ransom replied, his hands spanning your waist. “But I think you owe me an apology. You hurt my feelings.”

Your apology was a muted whine, Ransom’s fingers hooking under your panties while he pulled them down over your hips.

“So I think you’ll make it up to me.”

He lifted your legs up roughly, removing the flimsy material before he leaned back on his heels to admire you.

“I’m usually more on the receiving end when it comes to women. But for you, I’ll make an exception before I wreck you.”

His head bowed slightly, the only sight you could see was the top of his head before his mouth nipped at the sensitive skin on the inside of your thighs, teeth grazing slowly before his lips pressed against your skin softly. His arms held your thighs, the signet ring on his pinky finger a reminder of who was between your legs.

A tingle shot down your spine and into your core, warmth creeping between your legs.

Your fingernails pressed into your palm at the sensation of his tongue slowly licking a stripe up your slit that lingered on your bundle of nerves.

“You really did need to get laid,” Ransom murmured against your cunt. “Wet already.”

Your body was betraying you, his fingers spreading you apart before his mouth returned to sucking on your clit mercilessly, his fingers stretching you open wider before he pushed two of them inside.

A whine erupted deep in your chest, tears rolling down your cheeks as your resolve shattered, thighs shaking as he didn’t let up, his fingers spreading inside of you, stretching you while he continued his assault on your clit.

You were out of breath, swollen and sore when he moved back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Your hair stuck to your cheek from where you had rested your head on your forearm.

“I wish you could see yourself. A total mess. I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

You sniffled, eyes lifting at the crinkle of the condom wrapper. Your legs felt like lead while you tried to will them to move, your thighs pressing together that only created more friction for your sore clit.

“We aren’t done yet.”

He moved your legs with ease, settling between your thighs once more as you felt him at your entrance, tilting your hips up before he pushed inside you. Your eyes squeezed shut as your body tried to adjust to the invasion.

“You really haven’t gotten laid, have you?” Ransom asked crudely, sinking deeper inside you until he bottomed out. “Maybe I’m doing you a favor.”

The tugs on the ropes were useless as he pulled out slowly, only to drive back inside you with such intensity that breathing could be deemed as a luxury His pace hard and determined – teaching you a lesson – to the point where you started to see stars with how hard your eyes were shut. The bed creaked loudly with the force of his exertion, your muffled moans drowned out by the deep breaths that are expelled between his parted lips.

Your back arches slightly before the force of the orgasm that threatened to wash over you finally comes, your forearms blocking your face from his view, the small space between your arms allowing you to blink back tears to see the spotted popcorn ceiling.

Ransom slows his pace before he finally stops, his grip on your thighs hard as he comes.

“We gotta do this more often,” Ransom chides you, pulling out slowly.

The creak of the bed is loud as he leaves you, the bathroom light flicking on, leaving you alone with your labored breathing and shaking legs. The faucet stops and the door opens wider, more light pouring into the small room.

“I’d say you made it up to me and then some,” Ransom counters at your tear stained face before he kneels down and pulls out a small black box that he held up to examine.

“I’d ask if you want a copy but fortunately for me, there’s only one. Our little secret.”

He stuffed the recorder in his coat pocket, producing a pocket knife and cutting the ropes. Slumping onto the bed, you curled up into a ball while he checked his watch.

“You’ve got about thirty minutes before your Uber gets here. That should give you enough time to get dressed.”


	2. Chapter 2

Deep in thought while you peered at your monitor while going over the budget for a new wedding, you hadn’t heard the door open until the soft rumble of a throat being cleared snapped you out of your thoughts.

A woman in a silk blue pantsuit with white coiffed hair and black rimmed glasses leaned against the door frame. You’d seen her before, mostly in Scott’s office and around the lobby the few times you crossed paths. There was only one person that could command a presence like that.

Laurie Drysdale.

You took off your glasses, blinking away the ache of glaring at your computer for longer than usual.

“Mrs. Drysdale. Please, come in.”

You weren’t going to point out that she was already halfway there. Wearing a confident smirk, Laurie closed the door behind her, sauntering to an open seat across from your desk. She placed her purse on the chair next to her, some expensive brand you recognized from a fashion magazine. She folded her hands on her lap, giving you a smug smile.

“I just spoke to Scott. It appears that this is all just a misunderstanding.”

Your mouth tightened into a frown at her words, spoken condescendingly while she observed your office, her eyes stopping at the nameplate on your desk.

“Ransom is a bit of a handful, I’ll admit. I’m sure we can all discuss this until we are blue in the face but what matters is that you’re feeling slighted. Allow me to apologize for my son. Sometimes he lets his emotions get away with him but I assure you as I’ve assured Scott, you would not be teaching him a lesson if he was suspended from the club.”

The sleeve of your blouse rode up slightly as you leaned forward, the rope Ransom had bound you with still marked on your skin. You gazed as it quickly before you focused your attention back to her.

“Mrs. Drysdale, before I begin, what was the outcome of your conversation with Scott?”

Laurie’s smile faded, her lips thinning.

“He believes that the decision lies with you. For some reason.”

You pushed your chair away from your desk, giving yourself a little room to stretch your legs. Laurie didn’t know the reason why you held the future of her son’s membership in your hands but Scott did.

“We have been members for years. Stretching over decades.”

“Then I would be correct in my assumption that your son would know the rules, would it not? Rules that he deliberately broke. Trespassing on a private event. Putting his hands on me and harassing me.”

Laurie reached for her purse, settling it on her lap as she opened it.

“I’m sure you’re a nice girl. I took the liberty of doing some research on you. Impressive skills. You’ll go far. But I don’t want to have to tell me friends that my son was unfairly kicked out of a place where he loves to be. Ransom is adored here, ask anyone. I think we can settle this fairly. Sometimes jobs like these can be rough, especially for someone of your… background. Let me assure you that the last thing I want to do is bring the lawyers into it.”

Now it was your turn to smile. He had told you she was going to try to buy you off and you hadn’t believed it until you heard it from her own lips.

“What did you have in mind, Mrs. Drysdale?”

"Pay off a loan or two?"

You leaned your forearms on the table while she waited for your answer.

"That sounds a lot like bribery, Mrs. Drysdale. We're a humble country club and I'm... as you said, someone with impressive skills. Which would mean that you would understand that I could not, in good faith, take your money and allow your son to return back to this country club after he assaulted me. I understand that this may be hard for you, a woman of your background never hearing the word no but the answer is no. If you intend to sue, I'm sure your lawyers would be elated to hear that he has repeatedly broken rules that he himself signed on a contract, as well as yourself. And in the event that you do try to lobby that these allegations are false," you paused, holding up a small recorder at your desk to show her. "I have you on tape."

Mrs. Drysdale sputtered in her chair as you continued.

"Which means I can counter sue if you do try to bring this to court. Your son is creep who preys on on the weak because he feels entitled. Have a nice day, Mrs. Drysdale."

You put on a brave face as she grabbed her bag, pointing a manicured finger in your face.

"This isn't over. You want to play hardball, young lady, we can play."

You raised any eyebrow at her, amused at her tone.

"Batter up, Mrs. Drysdale. Close the door on your way out, please."

She did just that, the door slamming shut behind her as you heard her loud voice. No doubt on the phone with her lawyers. You leaned back in your chair, examining the marks on your wrists. It was time to go home and get ready for your date.

⚖️

"Imagine my surprise when I got your message," Ransom said with a smirk. "You really like the kinky shit, don't you?"

You sipped your caffe macchiato, the cup between your fingers while you stared back at him over your glasses. The coffee shop was mostly empty, your table tucked into a corner where no one paid you any attention.

"I'm going against everything I inside me that says this is wrong but I feel like this is a way for me to heal. Thank you for meeting me." The words were practiced at least five times in the mirror before you could say them confidently.

"Can't turn down a good lay."

You swallowed hard at his comment, nodding slightly while you placed the cup back down on the saucer.

"Do you think, maybe, we could do this at your place?" You chewed on your lip, hoping he would understand your need for privacy.

"My place? Shithole motels don't do it for you?"

"Not exactly."

Ransom lowered his head, looking around before he spoke.

"And what do I get out of this?"

Tears filled your eyes as your lip trembled.

"Its... I'm not enough?"

Ransom lifted his eyebrow at your question, his elbows on the table while he dropped his hand between the bridge of his hands.

"I'm a simple man but I'm still suspended from the club, remember? You let me come back without any repercussions and we can make this a weekly arrangement."

You stumbled over your words at his reply.

"I'd-I'd have to talk to Scott again. I don't have that power."

"Then you talk to him." Ransom's hand slid over yours. "And we have a deal."

"Can I after? Please, Ransom."

"Eager," Ransom noted, leaning back in his seat. He threw up his hands with a low laugh. "Fuck it, let's go."

⚖️

You straddled Ransom's lap, adjusting the ropes on his wrists before your hands traveled down his bare chest.

"Thank you for this," you whispered, kissing a line down to the waistband of his pants. "I promise I'll talk to Scott when this is over."

"Sure. Lower," Ransom instructed, watching your fingers circle the button on his pants. "Don't be shy."

You hesitated, your gaze watching the ropes tug against the headboard. It was secure. He wasn't going anywhere.

"I'm not shy," you replied, getting to your knees. "Far from it."

The headboard tapped against the wall while he stared at you, confusion on his face.

"What?"

You got to your feet, adjusting your skirt while you looked around the room. You strode toward his coat, sticking your hand in the pockets as he shouted your name, struggling against the ropes.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Ignoring him, you opened the drawers of his dresser, rifling through his clothes. You went through four drawers until you found the small black box, lifting it up to examine it.

"You sneaky little bitch!" Ransom snapped loudly. "Untie me!"

"Not a goddamn chance, Mr. Drysdale. As far as I'm concerned, you can rot. Is this the recorder?"

He smirked, still trying to pull against the ropes.

"I'm not telling you shit."

You stuffed the recorder into your purse, sitting back onto the bed, ignoring the murderous look in his eye.

"Your mother tried to give me hush money. Just like you predicted. You both are cut from the same privileged cost. Is that the recorder or not?"

He settled back onto the bed and shrugged.

"Could be."

Your fingers unbuttoned the first button on his pants, pulling the zipper down slowly. Regardless of how mad he was, there was no missing the fact that he was hard under your hand. Your fingers pulled down the waistband of his boxers, fingers wrapping around his cock as he sucked in a breath.

"You think that's how you're going to get me? A simple, lazy handjob?"

You applied pressure, your hand an iron grip as you moved your wrist up and down slowly, pulling him along with you while you kept your eyes on him.

"You spoiled, fucking, rich boy," you hissed with every single pump of your hand.

His eyes closed, his chest moving rapidly. You heard the change in his breathing, picking up the pace. Pre-cum beaded at the top of the head of his cock, your hand moving faster.

"Fuck," he grunted. "Use your mouth."

"Is that the recorder?" you demanded through clenched teeth.

You squeezed him harder, your thumb rubbing the underside of the head, pulling a groan from him.

"Is it?" you continued.

"Yes, fuck I'm so close."

You slowed down, removing your hand as his eyes snapped open, every breath he took a shudder inside his chest. He was hard as a rock, leaning to the left a little and you got to your feet, wiping his essence all over his lips.

"Thank you for your help," you told him, giving him a grateful smile. "We gotta do this more often."

⚖️

You walked past Scott's office and into the lobby, where Linda was being escorted out.

"Mrs. Drysdale," you acknowledged her, continuing past her, keys in hand.

Once you got outside, you inhaled the cool air, looking down at your new set of keys. You adjusted your purse over your shoulder, watching Ransom sit in the passenger seat of his mother's SUV. You clicked the alarm, noticing the pained expression on his face. You tapped on the window, the glass lowering as he glared.

"The beamer. It's 91, right? Premium?"

His jaw clenched as he nodded.

"Perfect. I figured but I wanted to be sure. Oh, these belong to you, I found them in the backseat." you produced a pair of panties in a plastic bag. "Found those while I was cleaning out my new car."

You headed toward your car, knowing he was still watching.

“Oh and Ransom?”

You looked over your shoulder with the haughtiest stare you could muster. He was paying attention.

“Eat shit.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please. You know I like revenge.


End file.
